If every day was a new day, we would be happy creatures indeed.

There would be no need to sleep at night with a mental checklist of things to be done tomorrow. No need to wake up with a pounding heart for things forgotten, reliving yesterday’s inefficiencies. There would be lightness in the heart, a spring in the step, because all your sins are forgotten and hey presto ! it’s a new day.

And best of all, yesterday’s love would be gone, and you would have a clear conscience and a free heart. You would look at someone, anyone, and keep reliving the giddy feeling of falling in love.

And there would be no marriages.

I look around me and think, maybe that won’t be such a bad idea.

Yesterday I saw two people, bound together for life, who looked like they could wish for no better fate. And the day before I saw two people bound together for one life, and leading two instead.

There is a deep disgust in my mind for an institution which seeks to create a captive out of me. But when I see the happiness of two people who want that and nothing more, I sit back and think. I think about my loves, and the feelings they evoked. And the feelings they evoke now. There is a museum of lost loves, and it seems a mockery of love to try and create something on their ruins.

How would anything built on such a foundation survive? With cracks already there and a little glue and some plaster holding it all together. With lives lived in constant metamorphosis, trying to turn into someone who is happy.

There was sanctity to marriage in my mind. Until I grew up and saw the world.

There is nothing worse than seeing an institution crumble around you. It makes you doubt your own place in the world and the future you had chalked out for yourself. It makes you look at everyone in a different light.

And it makes you lose your trust in the goodness of life.

This is what disillusionment does to you. It makes you want a new day.


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